


Something Celestial

by MagicMeg



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Background Mavinsay, F/M, Fake AH Crew, Fluff, Humor, Mild Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-30 00:13:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6399832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMeg/pseuds/MagicMeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The five times that Ryan had to pretend that he's in love with Meg, and the one time that he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Celestial

**Author's Note:**

> GTA universe, because I'm a mess of human being.

Meg had been working alongside side Fake AH Crew for a while by this point. She was their go to source of intel alongside a brilliantly thorough planner. She mostly worked alongside Ryan, who had a similar humour and style, making them perfect partners during jobs. They’d even been caught mirroring each other’s body language from time to time – much to the amusement of the rest of the crew who found is endlessly entertaining to make Meg and Ryan jokes.

At first he found it slightly embarrassing, a blush at his cheeks as they teased him after a planning-session with Meg lasted longer than expected. But as time went on, even the two of them began catching themselves making MegRyan jokes so it became irrelevant what others might think they were doing behind closed doors – it was only a joke after all.

She had quickly become his best friend, even if he felt too old to use such a phrase, but there was no better way to describe it. He felt content within their friendship and comfortable with her. He didn’t ever put any serious thought into the MegRyan fallacy because the endless jokes had made it seem detached from any sort of reality.

That was until he found the fallacy becoming uncomfortably close to his treasured reality.

* * *

**1.**

Ryan really tried to avoid going to bars.

The music was too loud and every word out his mouth seemed to be swallowed by the hot, stagnant air. People always told him that there were actual _nice_ bars where fights didn’t always break out and there was actually air-conditioning but Geoff, after years of slumming it in shitty bars, found comfort in their shitty-ness. (“It reminds me of my roots,” Geoff had once told him very seriously.)

Ryan didn’t bother to try and understand Geoff’s psyche – rather he contented himself with sitting at the back and watching his friends become increasingly intoxicated.

Meg had gone to the bar with them that evening because when Geoff suggested going out, she happened to be in the penthouse - highly involved in a game of Mario Party with Gavin, Michael and Lindsay (who still insisted on living in the penthouse despite the number of times people had walked in on them having sex).

Normally, Ryan would decline, but Meg had turned her puppy-dog eyes on him, and he irrevocably found himself driving them to one of Geoff’s favourite shit-holes as their designated driver.

It was night much like the others. Gavin and Geoff were making stupid bets whilst Lindsay filmed their antics as Michael interrupted with general loud drunken words of not-so-much-wisdom or general cackling laughter at either his boss’ or his boyfriend’s expense. Whilst Jeremy and Jack normally participated in the fun, they were off on a mission in Germany.

That left Ryan and Meg. They had decided to move away from their ridiculously loud friends to sit up at the bar, to talk as they pleased.

It was just when the bar was getting at peak levels of noise when a tall, muscular looking man tapped Meg on the shoulder.

Ah, yes. Another reason why Ryan hated going to bars.

The constant danger of someone randomly coming up to you and _talking_ to you. Granted, it happened to Meg far more often than it did him, but he still cringed at the memories of awkwardly explaining to a particularly endearing biker that he, unfortunately, wasn’t into men.

“Mhmm?” Meg responded, clearly just as thrilled as Ryan to have their conversation interrupted.

“Just wanted to know if you wanted to get out of here,” the man said.

Both Meg and Ryan raised their eyebrows. Straight to the point it seemed.

“Uhm, not particularly. Sorry,” she replied pleasantly enough.

The man furrowed his brow. “Why?” he asked, his tone coming off a bit too aggressively for Ryan’s liking. “This your boyfriend, then?”

Meg seemed to stammer with her answer for just that second too long, because the man interrupted and said, “Well if you ain’t with him, you’re coming with me.”

“Actually,” Ryan began, even before he knew what he was doing, “she _is_ with me. Not that that’s any more reason for you leave her alone than just the fact that she doesn’t want to go with you.”

The man now looked both annoyed and unconvinced. “If she’s with you, then why didn’t she just say so?”

When Ryan looked unsure, Meg answered, “This is our first date so technically he’s not my boyfriend, per say.” A silence fell between the three of them. “So… Uhm… Sorry, again.” Though her voice rang much less apologetic compared to the first time.

Whilst the man was clearly unsatisfied with their answers, he seemed to concede, sulking off to another part of the bar. Once away, Meg turned back to her friend and said, “Thanks, Rye.”

He shrugged. “Not like you couldn’t have handled it by yourself.”

“But that doesn’t mean it’s not nice to have some back up,” she countered, apparently insisting that he accept her gratitude.

Unable to deny her anything, he did. “What are friends for?” he asked, giving her a smile. There was a pause as they smiled at each other.

Then Meg said jokingly, “Though if this was _actually_ a first date and you took me here, I would definitely have gone with the other guy.”

Ryan chuckled, an odd feeling passing through him at the thought of taking Meg out on a date. “I assure you, my dating skills – whilst rusty – are far more substantial than that.”

“Well, prove it. Where would _you_ take me on a first date?” she asked him, teasingly.

He mulled it over for a moment and then said, “Probably the arcade downtown. Then maybe a meal or something.”

“Or something?” she repeated, waggling her eyebrows.

Ryan rolled his eyes but played along regardless, saying, “Well, it depends where the night takes us. Maybe it takes us to my bedroom but maybe we end up going home alone.”

“Are you suggesting that we don’t have chemistry?” Meg cried, faux-outraged.

“I’m _suggesting_ that there’s a possibility,” Ryan corrected.

She raised her eyebrows. “I rather doubt that Michael would have ordered custom ‘Team Turnwood’ t-shirts for him, Gav and Lindsay if we didn’t have chemistry,” she protested.

A grin twitched on his lips. “I had forgotten about the t-shirts,” he admitted. “I probably purged them from my memory after Lindsay said they’d all banged in them. I’m still not sure if she was joking.”

She laughed, “Clearly our chemistry is just _that_ strong that they couldn’t resist.”

It was his turn to laugh, a blush rising on his cheeks – something that a MegRyan joke hadn’t managed to cause for months.

* * *

**2.**

Ryan hated rich people.

Now, he recognised that he, himself, was _also_ rich. But, by his argument, this didn’t make him a rich _person_. By that he meant the fuckers who were born into wealth and couldn’t comprehend why more people didn’t travel to India to ‘discover themselves’.

It was to his utter misery to find himself amongst a whole ballroom of _rich people,_ also pretending to be just as rich and just as superficial as them. His only saving grace was the small woman on his arm who kept him smiling by making fun of their company under her breath.

“Ah, you must James Grady,” a voice drawled from their right, and they turned to see a young twenty-something sauntering up to them.

Whilst the young man didn’t seem much, his name had been whispering through the city for months; Flynt Coal. He was trying to build up his own crew in Los Santos and had been successfully buying out Fake AH’s weapons dealers right out from under their noses. It was Ryan and Meg’s job to find out how he was doing it, by posing as the owners of a lucrative munitions factory just north of the city.

“Mr Coal,” Ryan greeted him, shaking his hand, “a pleasure. May I introduce you to my wife.”

Flynt Coal grinned at Meg, taking her hand and placing a kiss upon it. “Now _this_ is a pleasure,” he turned his gaze back to Ryan, straightening up, “You’re a lucky man. I would kill for a wife as gorgeous.”

Meg smiled warmly and Ryan turned to smile adoringly at this ‘wife’. “Yes, she is heavenly,” he agreed easily – it wasn’t like he had to pretend to find her beautiful. He may need glasses, but there was no denying that there was something celestial in her appearance. She looked up to meet his gaze, a blush coming to her cheeks.

“Y’know,” Coal said, drawing their attention away from one another, “I am so glad you accepted my invitation to the Gala tonight. I am _dying_ to have a little chat about business.”

Ryan nodded, “Of course. I have heard many good things from my associates.”

Coal’s expression became more animated after this, a victorious glint in his eyes. “I’m glad to hear it!” he replied, “I’ll speak with you later in the evening, but for now I’ll give you some time to enjoy yourself with your wife.”

Once Ryan nodded again, Coal left them to themselves once again.

“Fucking hell,” Ryan complained, “now we have to stay here even longer.”

Meg shook her head, “Oh, Rye, you’d think someone as charming as you would fit right in here.”

He huffed, “Fat chance of you ever finding _me_ surrounded by people like this voluntarily.”

“Well, we’re here now so we might as well blend in and enjoy ourselves,” she said, using her grip on his bicep to draw him towards the dance floor where many a couple were twirling about.

“What are you doing?” he asked nervously.

“The correct question is ‘What are _we_ doing?’ and the answer is dancing!” Meg explained cheerfully.

“Fuck no.”

“But, Rye,” she pouted, “I’ve never been to ball before.”

“It’s not a ball, it’s a Gala,” he pointed out, “No dancing necessary.” He could feel her puppy-dog eyes on him, but he chose to ignore them. “Moreover, the Vagabond doesn’t dance.”

“But you’re not the Vagabond tonight you’re James Grady, and Mrs James Grady wishes to dance with her husband,” Meg cooed.

He sighed. (Geoff was right; she had him completely wrapped around her finger.)

“Fine. But only one dance and you can’t get pissed with me for stepping on your toes.”

The delighted squeal which followed almost made it all worth it as he found himself being led to the centre of the dance floor. But what really sold it was her arms twinning up to his neck, and his arms going around her waist. He thanked the heavens that she’d worn ridiculously high heels otherwise their dance would’ve been horrifically awkward.

After that, all his nerves about dancing in public seemed to become distant noise. And suddenly he found that he could ignore the frivolous chatter and fake laughter and just focus on her teasing smile and warm eyes – like he had escaped into another universe.

True to her word, she didn’t complain when he stepped on her toes and by the end of the song he was almost regretful when she pulled away again. He hadn’t realised how her body had flushed up to his until he felt the cold where her presence used to be. Gently, Meg thread her fingers through his and brought him away from the swaying crowd and out to the gardens where they found a stone bench to sit on.

It all seemed so quiet now, with Meg’s hand in his and her body pressed to his side as they looked across the gardens and at the stars up above.

“You never see the stars in the city,” she said softly and he hummed in agreement. Whilst they had complained about the long drive out to Coal’s mansion, he could recognise its worth now.

Looking at the stars reminded Ryan of his comment earlier, and even when looking at the grandeur of the galaxy, he still agreed that Meg could hold her ground against the beauty of the universe any day.

For a moment, he was almost tempted to tell her so. But then Coal came barreling out into the gardens and said boisterously, “Mr Grady! Shall we have that talk now?”

* * *

**3.**

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Meg hissed, dragging Ryan around a corner and straight into a dead-end. “ _Shit!_ ”

They could hear the cops coming up behind him, the slap of their feet against concrete and their angry murmurings.

The jewels they had just stolen were suddenly very heavy in Ryan’s pockets as their plan of ‘not being recognised’ was falling to shit around them.

“I have a gun,” he told her.

“No. There’s too many. It would be suicide.” She paused. “ _Fuuck_. What do we do?”

Ryan could hear their voices clearly, asking one another if they saw who did it. “They don’t know it was us. They just know it was someone _near_. We just need to act nonchalant.”

“We’re hiding in a fucking alleyway, Ryan. There’s nothing nonchalant about this,” she snapped.

“Not unless we have a reason to be hiding here,” he countered, giving her pointed look and hoping to god that she would know what he meant.

No luck.

“You mean _other_ than the fact that we just stole from-“

He pressed his lips to hers. The cops turned the corner and their chatter fell to a stop.

Meg stiffened and Ryan willed her with his mind to understand what was going on. She relaxed, he sighed with relief and her fingers twined into his hair. Much to his surprise, she moved to deepen the kiss and he got a brief taste of the coffee she had been drinking earlier.

Distantly, he heard the cops move on.

Several moments passed but neither one of them broke the kiss. Instead, Ryan pushed her up against the nearby brick wall. At the sudden contact of her back to the bricks, Meg let out a startled moan - and it was the sudden sound which seemed to jolt them back into reality.

Ryan stumbled back, his heart pounding in his ears as he watched Meg slump against the wall, now that she no longer needed to tip-toe to reach his mouth. She looked gorgeously disheveled and he couldn’t help but notice the way her chest rose with her heavy breaths.

Eventually she broke the silence and said, “Good… uhm… thinking there with… with uhm the kissing thing.”

He nodded – not trusting his voice.

“Uhm,” she said, a slightly dazed quality to her voice, “I guess… uh… we should get back to base.”

He nodded again.

* * *

**4.**

“Awhh look at you two,” Gavin cooed as Michael and Ryan were being lathered with sunscreen by Lindsay and Meg. “You need so much protection from the big bad sun.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Michael told him, “We’re just more precious than you, leather-skin.”

Gavin, looking offended, said, “But you love my skin, Micoo!”

A slightly mischievous glint came to Michael’s eye, “Yes. That I do.”

“Gross,” Meg interrupted, and she leaned closer to Ryan to whisper, “Why the fuck do we hang out with these guys again?”

“That’s rich coming from you two!” Michael objected – a comment which both Ryan and Meg ignored.

“And you hang out with us because we’re delightful,” Lindsay pointed out – to which Ryan snorted. “Also because we got you on the VIP list for this yacht party.”

“Ah, yes! That was the one!” Meg cried, a teasing grin on her lips.

Ryan grinned as the others rolled their eyes. Whilst he wasn’t normally one for participating in ‘swimmy bevs’, the outraged look on Geoff’s face when Gavin told him that their spare two tickets were going to Meg and whoever she chose (rather than Geoff), made it impossible for him to anything but yes.

And perhaps he was more than happy to spend a day out with Meg – betting on the fact that after a few drinks in Michael, Lindsay and Gavin would probably end up disappearing somewhere. But he didn’t think about that.

No, his desire to spend time with Meg (which was becoming less and less platonic) was stored way in the back of his mind, alongside the kiss they had shared – all of which cumulated to Ryan’s very strong denial of the fact that he was falling for his best friend.

But he didn’t have much time to dwell on such matters, their boat was pulling up to the yacht which was already overflowing with people and the pulsing beat of music. Ryan remembered the gala he had attended with Meg and wondered dimly if he was becoming a _rich person_ despite his best efforts.

He was the last to climb out of the boat, the threesome already disappearing towards the hot-tub as Meg waited to give him a helping hand. They reached the bouncer who asked for both their names.

They ran through the list slowly. The bouncer sighed. “I see a Meg Turney but no Ryan Haywood.”

“What?” Meg demanded, “But I called it in!”

The bouncer shrugged.

“It’s fine,” Ryan assured her, “I’ll just head back. I’m not a big party person anyway.”

“But I want you here,” she told him sadly.

And fuck if he hated to see her sad. (Jeremy was so right. He was so fucked.)

“You head in, just give me a minute, okay?” he told her. She looked hesitant, but when he gave her a pointed look, she agreed. Once she was fully out of earshot he turned back to the bouncer and said, “Look, I don’t mean to play the guilt card but I’m kinda hoping to propose to Meg today. And this was kinda my whole set-up.”

The bouncer gave him a disbelieving look. “ _Sure_ you are, buddy.”

“No, honestly!” he assured them. He dug into his pocket and pulled out one of Meg’s favourite rings that she had entrusted him with- just in-case she decided to take a dip in the hot-tub. “I’ve got a ring and everything.”

At the presentation of the ring, the bouncer’s frown deepened. “Fuck, you’re serious.”

“Yup. And if I don’t get in, all of this planning goes to shit.”

The bouncer hesitated, but then conceded. “Don’t tell anyone I let you in, okay?”

Ryan sagged with relief, shoving the ring back into his pocket. “Thank you so much.”

As he walked past, the bouncer called over his shoulder, “Make sure she says yes – otherwise I just risked my job for nothing.”

Ryan chuckled, “Here’s hoping!”

He found Meg perched at the bar as she watched Michael throw Gavin into the hot tub. Upon seeing him, her face lit up. “You got in!”

“Did you ever doubt me?” he asked.

“I would never,” she promised, and then asked, “So how did you convince him?”

Ryan hesitated, as if for a moment he forgot that he _wasn’t_ planning on surprising Meg with an engagement ring. “I said that I was planning on proposing to you today.”

Meg’s eyes widened and a soft smile climbed her lips. “What inspired such a romantic notion? You could’ve just bought the guy off or scared him in classic Vagabond style.”

He paused again. Yes, he supposed he could have.

“Well,” he explained, pulling the ring he had used out of his pocket, “I already had the prop, so why not?”

Her fingers reached out and brushed his, plucking the ring from his grip. “Y’know,” she murmured, her voice suddenly very quiet, “that bouncer is still watching us. So they probably think I’ve said yes.”

She slipped the ring onto her left ring-finger and suddenly Ryan’s throat went very tight at the sight of it. He brought his gaze up to hers and found that she was transfixed with watching the ring on her finger and there was swell of emotions in his chest.

“Meg…” he whispered, suddenly far too aware of how close her mouth was to his. He felt words climbing this throat, dangerous words which threatened to spill out of his lips.

But whatever he was going to say was cut off by a loud cheer of people and confetti canons. They jumped and found everyone around them staring at them and applauding. The bouncer was giving Ryan a thumbs up, Michael, Gavin and Lindsay were looking startled and all Ryan could find it in himself to do was laugh.

Glasses of champagne were shoved into their hands and when Ryan turned back to Meg, she smiled brightly at him and said, “To us!”

The electric charge of the moment before had disappeared and he was left to enjoy the happiness in her eyes and the amusement of seeing their friends so fucking confused.

“To us,” he agreed, clinking their glasses together.

* * *

**5.**

It had gone all so terribly wrong. So fucking wrong. All he could see was red. The red of his anger which tinted his gaze and the red of her blood was _everywhere_.

Meg was in his arms, and fading fast. The bullet wound which hit just below her gut looked damn near fatal and he was losing his mind. He was clutching her desperately as he yelled for help until this throat was sore.

It was meant to be an easy job. They were meant to set up an explosives deal but even before they got there, gunfire rang out through the street and she had collapsed on the ground.

She was so pale. So deathly pale and he was shaking with how scared he was. He couldn’t stop yelling. _Someone_ had to eventually hear him.

Jack was on the other side of the coms, desperately trying to get their medical crew to them, but it was rush-hour and they were on the other side of town. Jack was trying to calm him down, telling him that she had someone on the way, that Meg was going to be okay but Ryan wasn’t hearing a word of it.

He was just watching Meg fall into unconsciousness, her hand falling away from his.

And then there was the sound of ambulances. Then medics were swarming them, asking if he was okay, lifting her out of his arms and he desperately followed after them.

“Sir, I’m afraid only family can come with,” one of the nurses told him.

“I am family,” he snapped automatically, without even thinking.

“What are your relations to her?” he was asked.

“I’m her husband,” he responded, the lie coming to him easier than it should have. Meg was still wearing the ring from the yacht incident, so he could easily lie that they were still having their rings made – newly-weds and all that.

But the staff didn’t seem to doubt for a second that he was her husband. They accepted it, without question. And maybe _he_ should’ve questioned _that_.

Instead, he clambered into the back of the ambulance with her and sat, holding her hand as he watched the staff work in a flurry to save her. The tears were beginning to dry on his face and he heard Jack’s desperate voice on the other end of the com.

“Ryan you can’t go into hospital. They’ll figure out who you are. They’ll arrest you. You have to-“

“Then get us out of here,” he snapped.

One of the nurses turned to him – “What was that, sir?”

He shook his head. “Just thinking out loud. Sorry.”

“What did you say her name was, sir?” they continued to ask.

“Megan Grady,” he said hoarsely.

His eyes became trained to watching her, to making sure she was still breathing and wondering if colour was ever going to return to her cheeks.

When they reached the hospital, she was rushed into surgery and he was left to stare at a crack in their shitty waiting-room’s wall until a nurse came over to ask for their details again. She explained that they couldn’t find their details on any medical records and he impatiently explained that was because they weren’t on any records, because they didn’t live in the United States.

When the nurse came over to ask if Meg had any relatives they should inform of her condition he snapped, “How much do I need to pay you to make you stop asking inane questions?”

After that he was only asked if he was going to pay for her bills.

“Of course,” he said tiredly.

Then a few hours later – “She’s out of surgery. She’s going to be okay. Do you want to see her, Mr Grady?”

He was nodding before the sentenced was finished.

Ryan was then escorted down the bright hallways to her private room, where she was still asleep but even through the window he could see that there was colour in her cheeks.

“I’ll leave you to it,” the nurse said as he opened the door.

On autopilot, he walked over to her bed and sat in the seat beside it. He sought her hand and thread his fingers through hers, just as she had the first night they’d posed as Mr and Mrs Grady.

The relief finally hit him and it hit him like a truck.

She was okay. She was going to make it.

He shook with silent sobs of relief.

She was alive. Everything else was immaterial.

* * *

**1+**

He sat by her side day and night until her eyes finally fluttered open again. He was worn and practically asleep where he was sitting but when he saw her eyes focussed on him – he suddenly felt more awake than ever.

“Rye…” she croaked, wincing at the pain.

He shushed her, running his fingers through her hair and murmuring, “Don’t strain yourself.”

“W-What happened?” she asked.

“You were shot.”

“I gathered that,” she pointed out and a grin twitched at his lips. It felt like it had been days since he had smiled.

“The crew wasn’t able to get the medical team to us in time so some civilian called an ambulance for us-“ Meg’s eyes widened. “You were brought into surgery, we broke you out of hospital and here you are.”

“What happened to you?”

He smiled softly at her concern. “I was fine. I even got to play husband again,” he joked, “They only allowed family in the ambulance so I was like ‘Well I’m her husband, so fuck you.”

“Ah, the return of James Grady,” Meg teased, her voice still painfully quiet.

“Yes, apparently I’m suffering through some bizarre Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde scenario. Soon there will be no more Ryan Haywood, only James Grady” he replied and grinned when she laughed – only for it to falter when she began to cough. He hushed her again, the hand not tangled in her hair, squeezing hers.

“I thought you were going to die,” he told her seriously.

“But I didn’t,” she said.

He shook his head. “That’s not the point. I thought I’d lost you and I didn’t know what I was going to do. I…” he paused, not wanting to choke up in front of her. “I honestly thought I was going to lose my mind.”

It was her turn to squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Ryan shook his head again, “Don’t you dare apologise. You weren’t the one pulling the trigger and I can promise you that fucker won’t be living for long.”

A smile danced across her lips, “Always the hero.”

He huffed a laugh, “Nah. I just don’t take kindly to when someone shoots the person I love.”

Meg’s breath hitched. He had said it before he had given himself enough time to think about it – lest he give himself enough time to get too scared to say it.

“You love me?” she whispered.

His fingers trailed down her face, moving to cup her jaw gently. “To the stars and back.” A smile broke across her face and he said, “I hope this means you love me too.”

“As if it was the most natural thing in the world,” she assured him.

Then he was dipping down and pressing his lips to hers. It was chaste, so unlike their first kiss, but this time it held so much more meaning.

“I love you, Meg Turney.”

“You’ve already said that,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes. “Excuse me for trying to be romantic.”

Meg giggled, “You’re a dork. I love you too, Ryan Haywood.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I banged this one out in a couple of hours because I really liked writing it, and hopefully that comes across! (Not that I wrote it quickly, but that I enjoyed it.)
> 
> Shall I write outside of the GTA universe? Like a Kings AU or something? Or shall I continue to write what I know? Questions, questions...


End file.
